The Plan
by It's Just That
Summary: AU/AR Draco Malfoy has a plan. And that's to steal Harry Potter's underpants and make them his own. Easy as drinking pumpkin juice...right? DMHP disregards HBP and DH
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**: I don't own HP and the gang. Bollocks.

**A/N**: Yes, there is a Prologue. Because I say so. xD

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Draco twiddled his thumbs. Yes, he was quite aware that Malfoys did not twiddle their thumbs, but alas, he had this insane urge to do so. So he did. And only Blaise was there to watch him under hawkish eyes. Bah. Like Draco cared. The git could sod off, because he was bored, had nothing to do and had plenty of time to waste.

So why did all this free time make him uneasy and out of character?

Well that was quite easily answered with one word:

_Potter._

Harry sodding Potter. The-Boy-Who-Does-Not-Want-To-Die. The-Idiot-That-Can't-Read-His-Potions-Manual. The-Muggle-Loving-Halfblood-That-Can't-Stop-Calling-Him-Ferret-Boy.

Mouth twisting into a grimace, Draco glared at the aforementioned teenager from across the Great Hall, eyebrows taking a temporary downturn. See? Even his eyebrows agreed with him. They even hated Harr--_Potter_ too. His eyes widened at the almost slip-up, before narrowing in distaste.

_Damnit, Draco! Not here, not now! _He berated himself, trying to sneer. He ended up failing spectacularly, so just settled on a better, much more _suitable_ expression: _a scowl_. Yes, he had learnt it from his mother. _The scowl _meant that something had gone terribly wrong with something and he had no idea how to fix it. It was a Black tradition to uphold and use _the scowl_ whenever something did not go their way. It was something you usually picked up if you lingered with any superior Pureblood (coughspoiledbratsyndromecough).

_Although..._

Now that Draco thought of it...

He cocked his head at Blaise, letting a small, devious smile curl at the edge of his lips. His bestfriend only shook his head at him, muttered under his breath, 'what, in the hells are you thinking?' and turned away, intent on paying attention to Dumbledore's Welcome Back speech.

Draco didn't bother listening to the old coot. He had much more pressing matters to think about. Like figuring out how to get his ultimate, _'I can't have him and I can't touch at all because it's quite impossible_' crush.

_Yes_, he told himself. He could do something. He could put a plan to action...He could _make _a plan...

Draco mentally cackled, barely containing the urge to gleefully rub his hands together. Oh, if his Mother were here, she'd be so proud of him. Already on his way to gaining so many hearts. Or well, just Potter's. Because he was planning on doing so, this very moment. He didn't know how long it would take to actually gain it, but he would be damned if he didn't try.

So without further ado, Draco made a plan. And what a cunning plan it was! He named it 'The Plan' because he really didn't want to bother to create a difficult name, so just made do with a rather simple one. The main goal of his plan was to, well...you_ know_.

Steal Harry Potter's underpants.

Though even that sounded like epic failure in his mind.

Letting out a howl of frustration, Draco threw a knife up the table (the food had appeared, meaning Dumbles had finished blahblahblahing), and ignored the amused glances he received from his Housemates. What they didn't know was that Goyle was on the floor, passed out from blood loss. And it wasn't from any induced perverseness--it was just from the knife sticking out of his arm.

Oh well. Snape would drag his Bodyguard off to the Hospital Wing later.

Dejectedly taking a mouthful of his favourite pudding, Draco mentally reviewed his plan once again, but only got one formula stuck in his mind:

Harry plus Draco multiplied by sexual frustration divided by natural prejudices equaled hot man sex.

_Mhmm..._ Draco couldn't get out of the proverbial gutter now. And frankly, he didn't want to. His thoughts oozed of Harry and him, limbs tangled together, mouths pressed against each other, as Harry thrust his hips up, wantonly asking for more--

Draco did not see the goofy smile plastered onto his face, nor the blood trickling from his nose.

"Draco, _Draco_! For Merlin's sake, snap out of it!" Blaise whispered loudly, pointedly staring at him with those sharp hazel eyes of his.

Draco managed to break out of his (really rather nice) reverie and asked, "Huh? What is it, Blaise?" He couldn't keep the irritation from colouring his voice. Hey, who wouldn't be mad if they were rudely pulled away from their daydream?

Apparently, Draco had said something out loud, because Blaise frowned. But instead of inquiring, the handsome Italian just sighed and dug something out of his pocket. Once found, Draco belatedly realised that it was a silk handkerchief, embroidered with the Zabini crest.

Blaise handed it to Draco and said in a concerned tone, "I bet you hadn't realised that your nose was bleeding, Draco. Do you want to lie down or something? Go to the Hospital Wing? Have me carry you like a maiden-in-distress to our dormitory?"

Draco, surprised at how concerned Blaise was for his welfare, took the proffered hanky and pinched his nose with it.

"No, no, it's fine," he mumbled, though his answer was muffled by the expensive hanky on his face.

"If you're sure..." Blaise trailed off and seemed uncertain for a minute, but gracefully dug into his plate when Draco reaffirmed that no, he didn't feel like lying down, and yes, he wasn't going to die.

Oh, this was the final straw, Draco inwardly fumed.

He would do it. He would put his plan to action!

He would steal Harry's underpants!

Chancing a glance towards the Gryffindor table, Draco wasn't disappointed when he caught Harry looking at him, curiosity shining in his unbelievably green eyes. Electricity sparked out as he beheld that powerful gaze, cheeks tinting as he felt Harry's magic unconsciously brush his own. He broke it off after a few seconds, though couldn't quite understand why Harry seemed satisfied with himself.

Silver eyes narrowing, Draco decided he'd put his plan to action.

However, before Draco could do anything drastic (like proclaim his obsession to everyone in the Great Hall) to his utmost shock, Harry flashed him a (was he deluding himself??) smile and Draco felt his knees wobble.

Errr...Now that he thought more about it, he would put his plan to action when he had enough courage to do so.

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**A/N**: I know. Draco's a coward. xD

Now that you're done reading, please spare a review? It's like vittles for little old me. ;] Now press that button and go wild, cookies! XD


	2. He Has Underpants?

**Disclaimer: **No, I don't own HP. Otherwise you'd see Harry doing it with almost every male character. xD

**Title**: The Plan

**Summary**: Draco Malfoy has a plan. And that's to steal Harry Potter's underpants and make them his own. Easy as drinking pumpkin juice...right?

**Rating**: R or M for Mature Audiences

**Starring**: everyone...? xD

**Warnings**: AU, discounts HBP and DH. Timeline is set at Harry and Draco's 6th year. OOC, stalker!Draco, naive!Harry

**A/N:** thank you so much for your reviews! o.o i got 5 in one night and it inspired me to post up the next chapter, after my exams lol...

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**Chapter 1 :: He has underpants?**

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_On the first week back from Summer Hols..._

He had his eye on Potter the moment the git waltzed into the Great Hall. Amidst the admiring sighs, longing stares and desperate clutching, Harry brushed all of them away with nary a glance, his penetrating gaze landing on the one witch he loathed the most--

The Weaselette.

The Boy-Who-Should-Just-Drop-Dead-But-Does-Not-Because-Of-Sheer-Dumb-Luck shot her a smile, causing the annoying redhead to beam back at him in return.

Draco gritted his teeth as Harry smoothly slid in a seat next to his friends, nodding to their inquiries on his health, how he was, etcetera, etcetera. What mattered the most to him was that the Weaselette was inching closer and closer to his property, and that made Draco clench his hands. He muttered a curse as Ginny batted her eyelashes at Boy Wonder and made small talk with him. He couldn't even dream to do something as _NORMAL_ as that! And damn, was he jealous!

"I'll get her...I swear I'll get her someday..." He muttered again and then glared even more. If he had super powers, Ginny would have been burnt to a crispy bacon from the laser beam coming from his eyes. Unfortunately for Draco, he didn't have laser beams coming from his eyes, nor did he have any super powers whatsoever.

"Now, now, Drakie-poo, calm down, you might get wrinkles from all that glaring," Pansy Parkinson soothed, patting his arm in an attempt to comfort him.

"Shut up, Pansy," he automatically replied, grabbing his butter knife and stabbing his toast with it. He cut off the crust (because he really hated the sides), then threw the knife somewhere on the table, not noticing when it hit Goyle's arm. The large boy, for a moment, just stared wide eyed at the knife sticking out of his arm, then proceeded to faint somewhere, yes somewhere, on the floor.

Neither Draco or Pansy actually paid any heed to this, for it was a daily occurence since they had come back from their Summer Holidays. Goddamn Draco and his prima-donna attitude, the other Slytherins thought. Though they just learned to go with the flow and shrug it off. They were lucky it wasn't them. And Goyle would eventually come to, right? He'd eventually stagger off to Madame Promfrey, who would undoubtedly shout at him, nag him, and eventually shout at him to death.

Which wasn't much of a big loss, if the Slytherins had to be honest.

Anyway, Draco scowled at his best girl friend in the whole wide world. Then pouted when she reached up to flick his nose.

"You know," she began conversationally, taking a sporkful of his omelette, choosing to ignore his proclamation of 'Hey! that's mine!' and eat away at his plate. "Maybe you should do something instead of pine for him helplessly like a--I dont know--_loser_? I mean, you're a _Malfoy_, Draco. And, no offense, Malfoys take action. Not just stand there as a Muggle Loving she-banshee takes away your man."

"I know, Pansy, I know, but--_look at them_!" he rudely gestured to the chattering duo consisting of Potter and the Weaselette. "They work! They're supposed to have one thousand babies and a lifetime of happiness in a cottage somewhere near the Weasel farm! They're going to name their first born children Albus and--" Draco, having stood up (no, he was not making a scene, he assured himself), collapsed onto his seat, dramatically letting out a heartfelt sob. He didn't want to think about the many kids his unrequited love would have. He couldn't bear it!

"I don't think I can stand it!" he wailed melodramatically into his hands.

Too bad Pansy was immune to his theatrics, or she would've teared up a little at his over-zealousness. As it was, she just sighed, already quite used to how he would whinge throughout breakfast.

"Oh come now," Pansy patted his arm once again. "It's not so bad. I mean, you still have Blaise, right?"

At the mention of his name, the Italian boy's head shot up, sending an inquiring look to both her and Draco. He blinked at the fallen Goyle, then blinked at the two of them. "You do realise you threw a knife at Goyle again, don't you, Draco?" he asked, and received an uncaring shrug in return. Blaise's eyebrow then elevated and the Italian coughed at his silent rebuttal. "Ookay...Well, just checking, you know," he said, and went back to trying to finish his Charms essay.

"But _Blaaaiiiiseeee_!" Draco whinged, and shook Blaise's shoulder. "Didn't you hear anything I've said so far??"

"Like how you want to steal Potter's pants and make them yours while strangling the life out of the Weaselette?" Blaise replied easily, as Pansy rolled her eyes at his immaturity.

"He just doesn't want to _steal_ Potter's pants! He wants to _keep_ them!" she said huffily, her small nose scrunching up in something akin to horror.

"Ahh." Blaise looked thoughtful. "Well that poses a problem." He, like Pansy had done earlier, patted Draco's arm in what was supposed to come off as a reassuring gesture, but only served to further annoy the blond. "Good luck with that, Draco. Everyone knows how hard it is to keep a man like Potter."

"What do you mean, 'a man like Potter'?" Draco spat, and viciously took a bite of his toast.

"Because men like him don't know how to let it go," Blaise answered.

Crumbs splayed everywhere as the Italian furthered his point by making a 'jerking off' hand gesture.

"Whatever was that for, Drakey?" said Pansy, and wiped the crumbs off her face. She handed him another napkin, then, as an afterthought, gave Blaise one as well.

"What's this for?" Blaise asked.

"For jerking off later," she replied sweetly, laughing outright when Blaise turned a brilliant shade of crimson.

He sputtered, "I was only--_you know why_--I would never do that w-with Draco!"

"It's okay Blaise, I'm sure he wouldn't mind a threesome," Pansy giggled as her friend floundered for words to say.

Draco stared blankly at his friends. What freaks.

"Threesome?" he echoed dully, then furrowed his brows. "A threesome is not possible because I haven't even got Potter yet. Is it entirely possible to have a threesome when there's only one person and another person?"

"Nah, it's probably not," Blaise said, relief evident on his face as Draco nodded in assent. Of course, of course. That made perfect sense. There was only he and Blaise. And that didn't even count for anything.

"Makes sense to me," Draco said. His mind wandered off for a moment (and no, not to the gutter). He tapped his chin, then cocked his head to the side.

"I think..."

"You think...?" Pansy asked dutifully.

"He thinks?" Blaise asked, and got a punch in the arm from Draco. "Oww!"

"S'what you get for implying that I was stupid," the blond hissed, then calmed down whilst combing a hand through his incredibly pretty hair. "I actually have a plan for stealing his heart, but..." Draco sighed, "I just don't know if I can do it, you know? It's pretty hard when the whole world thinks you've got nothing but prejudice against each other. But really, in all honesty, I'd like to tell the whole world to sod off because it's sexual tension, not a simple rivalry." Or Draco would like to think that.

...Err, he preferred thinking that, yes.

Shock filtered in each of his friend's minds as they stared at him, slackjawed. This was the first time that Draco had ever opened up to them so much! And it was..._warming_! Like a dream come true! Like...stealing candy from first years and eating it as their own! But much better!

_Wow,_ the two thought, blissful expressions on their faces. They both believed that Draco should have been this nice every day, but then thought better of it. Draco wouldn't be Draco if he was a nice little boy. He'd just be a--well, _nice little boy_ and not Draco.

Said Draco cleared his throat at the uncomfortable silence settling between them.

Pansy was the first to snap out of it.

"Oh, Draco!" she cried, "You're not alone! We'll help you out, you know we will! Who wouldn't want to make this tragic love tale have a happy ending?" Pansy nudged Blaise out of his stupor, and the boy just blinked owlishly.

"Yeah, what Pans, says," Blaise muttered glumly. "I wouldn't dream of ruining it at all."

"That's the spirit, Blaise!" Pansy crowed and joyously bounced up and down on her seat. "So what's the plan, Drakey?"

Draco's face split into a large and manaical grin as he ushered his two friends close.

"Well, I was planning to..."

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"Looks like the Snakes are up to something," Ron pointed out, shoveling a spoonful of oats into his mouth. He said this around a mouthful of food and directed his gaze to the infamous Slytherin Trio. Harry and Hermione were quite used to his ill-manners so knew better than to remind Ron to eat a little more slowly. Besides, it was a moot point.

"You think so, Ron?" asked Hermione, pursing her lips. "I wouldn't put it past them to do so, but I think they're going to be harmless this year. They hadn't gone looking for us on the ride back to Hogwarts and they hadn't made a scene like they usually would have done by now."

"You might be right, 'mione," Harry agreed, carefully nibbling on his apple. He tried his best to ignore the chattering Ginny on his left and smiled gratefully when Ron sent his little sister a look that meant, '_shut up_'. "Anyway, I don't think they're up to anything, really. They're just...scheming something, as always."

"Yeah, maybe about you and how to get into your pants," grumbled Ron, who was actually just joking about the whole thing.

Harry and Hermione burst out laughing at his comment (Harry, because he really didn't wear underpants, though this was all due to his innate laziness and Hermione, because she had a feeling karma would bite Harry in the ass), and continued on with their breakfast.

A few minutes later, as they gathered their things together and made their way to their first class, Charms with the Slytherins, Harry couldn't help but think that something in Ron's words rang true.

...But really, who knew that the redhead could have a hint of forsight-?

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**A/N: **And it ends here. I wanted to continue it, but then I thought I would be giving it away too much. xD... review, please? every time I get a review, I get reeeally_reallyreallyreally_ inspired to type the next chapter. No, seriously. It isn't a bribe/blackmail to make you guys review more (coughcoughliarhackhack).

**P.S. Don't just author alert me :c review me, please XDDD a word, or just a sentence and phrase would appease the review-whore in me ^_^  
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	3. Well, what are you waiting for?

**DISCLAIMER: **Don't own it. Really.

**A/N: **Weee! Another chapter begun, another added to the collection?

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Chapter 2:: Well, what are you waiting for?

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Draco's plan was simple. He would bribe a Hufflepoy boy, preferably Justin Finch-Fletchley, to woo Ginny away from Harry. It wouldn't be difficult, seeing that the boy already had a crush on the Weaselette. After Justin's supposed, _success_ on wooing the annoying bint to be his girlfriend, Draco's fun would then begin.

Or well, he, Blaise and Pansy's.

Feeling a rush of excitement, Draco managed to barely contain himself. Yes, it was as clear as day that was skipping to Charms. Although if anyone asked, he was not. He was...doing a manly walk! Yes, a very, _very_ manly walk that meant hopping about and just being ignoramously happy.

"Draco!" snapped Blaise, a vein popping out of his forehead. "Could you please compose yourself? You're making it seem like you just smoked a whole satchel of powder!"

Draco flipped his best friend off.

"I don't care what anyone thinks," he drawled, but then grumbled at Blaise's consterning look. He sighed and instead of arguing with Blaise, settled into his usual saunter.

"There, you happy now?" he sneered. No one ever wanted him to express his happiness. Period.

"Of course, I am. Wouldn't want you to give people the wrong idea and make them think that all Slytherins like pink, fluffy hearts and skipping in green meadows."

Draco's jaw dropped. He didn't like skipping in green meadows! And he certainly didn't like pink, fluffy hearts! He preferred red ones, thank you very much.

Annoyed, Draco stepped closer to Blaise.

"Why you little--"

The only female in their group suddenly cast a quick tempus charm, and with fake enthusiasm, interrupted their squabble, "Ooooh! Look at the time! We're going to be late for class!" With that said, she grabbed both of her friend's arms and dragged them off to their class before Blaise could think of a snide remark. Or seeing Draco bitch-slap him. Whichever came first.

They arrived just as Flitwick strolled into the classroom, his bald head and small body rather hard to miss because of the spectacular hole on his robes. Draco was about to rudely ask how their professor had gotten into such a...well, you know, _incident_, but was beaten to the snitch when Ron blurted out,

"Sir, you have a hole in your robes!"

Flitwick seemed bemused as he hopped onto his usual stack of books and surveyed his class. "An astute point, Mr. Weasley. Five points from Gryffindor," he said, eyebrows raised defiantly as if daring the class to ask anything else. They didn't.

Snickering at how Ron's ears burned pink, the Slytherins knew better than to tease the redhead in front of the Ravenclaw Head of House. They didn't want any deducted points this early in the school year, so wisely kept their mouths shut.

And so class begun.

"Why do we have to charm our things to be a different colour?" hissed Pansy, trying to turn her fluffy rainbow coloured designer bag to a pale pink. She was doing the whole thing wrong, by the way her item kept changing constant colours.

"I think it's supposed to be some disillusionment spell," Draco replied, easily changing his own quill to a different colour, every time he tapped on it. This was a spell for beginners, he yawned.

Blaise didn't seem to have much of a problem either. Except eventually, his parchment, instead of turning red, dissolved into something akin to blood and smelled just as nasty. "Oh, yeuch!" the olive-skinned boy yelped, and banished the whole thing away.

"What a waste of good grade-A wildebeest parchment," Blaise muttered dejectedly. "I shouldn't have used that one, not that I expected it to just turn into blood."

"It's okay, you can have a roll of mine when we get back to our Dormitory," Pansy said, then snorted. "You know, now that I think of it, at least yours is changing colours. Can anyone please tell me what I'm doing wrong? I think my bag grew ears." Draco sighed and pointed out that she needed to twist her hand during the incantation or else the colour wouldn't stop shifting.

Potter and his friends did nothing except--well _nothing_ and it bored Draco to no ends. How utterly dull and disappointing, he pouted in his head, not bothering to conceal his boredom.

Throughout the whole class, Draco just gazed lonesomely at Harry, admiring the Golden boy's stately visage. From his hair. To the colour of his skin. To the small freckles on his nose. Just about everything really. And no. Draco was not eye-raping Harry either.

After the rather boring (not for some of the others though. They seemed to have accidentally transfigured some of their things into matchsticks or crayons), their next class was Muggle Studies. With the Hufflepuffs.

Dear Merlin, save me now, Draco thought, beginning to feel a constant pounding in his skull. He could just imagine the horror of his next class. If it wasn't bad enough, his first class went something like this:

A measly Hufflepuff eagerly shot their hand up, saying, "Ohh sir, what's that thingy that rings in the muggle's homes?"

"Ahh yes, that." Aforementioned Professor had rubbed his chin thoughtfully, as if struggling to think of an answer. Eventually, the Professor, in an uncertain tone, told them, "I believe it's called a fellyfone. Transports voices or other various sounds from one location to the next."

"How brilliant! What would those innovative muggles think up next?" another Hufflequack had said in awe, while Draco and the rest of his Housemates had stared at the idiots in disgust. They had actually thought of going deaf for the sake of not hearing all these heresays. Or maybe want to off themselves with their nicely sharpened quills. Whichever was more preferable.

He, and the rest of the Slytherins just settled for face-palming and shaking their heads.

And the rest of the class was history.

....Why had he bothered to even take this subject up again?

"Oh yeah," Draco grumbled, "Mother requested it from me."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Draco allowed his friends to lead the way to their classroom, inwardly dreading how it was going to turn up.

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_"Harry James Potter!"_ shrilled a female voice. "_Where are you?!"_

"Uh oh," Harry said aloud, trying to hide behind Ron, who discreetly edged away.

"Traitor," Harry whispered, then paled as he saw Hermione stomp towards him, hands on her hips. Her ears were literally steaming with smoke, and he resisted the urge to cringe at the furious look on her face. He looked to Ron for help, and the redhead only shrugged, mouthing,

"_I'm going to go to my class now_."

And the git left. Just like that. Harry would wait to strangle the boy in his sleep before the end of today.

Then _she_ stood in front of him, mouth set into a thin line.

"Errr. _Hi_?" he squeaked, as she proceeded to drag him away to their Arithmancy class. Other students were chuckling at the scene the two made and went on their merry way. Other students were not so lucky and ended up being bowled over by the stomping Hermione. Poor kids.

"Wait, 'mione, I can explain--" he tried to save face.

"Explain _what_ exactly, Harry?" she sniped, still dragging him to the moving staircase, then practically shoving him down the next corridor. "That you tried to skip your _class _in favour of taking a morning siesta? I can't believe you!"

"Well it's not my fault me and numbers don't quite agree with each other. Who needs to know about numerical divination anyway?" Harry muttered, knowing Hermione wouldn't hear him, due to the fact that she was loudly spouting off in anger. Bah. He only skipped that class what--? Two times this week?

"--first week of classes! How could you not even notice that?" Hermione stepped on a first year Ravenclaw's shoes, sending the poor girl tumbling down the stairs. She appeared to not have noticed, but Harry had. He prayed that the little girl had only broken her arm or something that was mendable with potions.

"Err, Hermione--"

"What. Is. It?" she seethed, breathing fire through her nostrils. Harry gulped.

"Uhm. Nevermind, it was nothing. Continue onwards with the dragging."

Hermione glared, but regardless, continued to drag her reluctant friend to the second floor.

"And as I was saying, before I was so _rudely interrupted_--this is the FIRST week--"

Harry began to tune her out, mulling over why Hermione was such a banshee to him today. It wasn't his fault that Arithmancy was the perfect, skippable subject. Like he had admitted earlier, he had only skipped his second and third class for it.

Oh.

Wait.

That constituted half of the week already.

No wonder why she was acting this way.

"--are you even listening to me, Harry?" she stopped, forcing Harry to stand upright by himself again.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry tried to smooth down his ruffled hair and clothes. He succeeded with his clothes but failed utterly with his hair. As always.

"Well?" she said expectantly.

"Yeah, yeah, I won't ever skip this class again. I promise," he replied.

She looked somewhat satisfied by the (he tried to look like it, really) apologetic look he gave her, and nodded. "Okay, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt," Hermione smiled, then espied her class crush, Bradley walking into their classroom.

"Oh!" She had a comical look on her face, and was instantly, in the blink of an eye, next to the handsome Ravenclaw, hearts in her eyes.

"Man, oh man," Harry resisted the urge to roll his own eyes. It really was that time of month again, huh? Luckily, Ron wasn't there, or the tall boy would have thrown a fit. Or get the _'ohmymerlineshesodidnotdothat_' green beast. Harry just shook his head.

Taking a seat all the way in the back, Harry made himself comfortable. And promptly fell asleep as soon as the lesson had begun.

Fourty five minutes and a slap on the head by his Professor, Harry woke up, startled.

"Uhh, is the answer five?" Harry groggily asked, rubbing his aching head. And that was such a good nap too! he mentally whinged.

"No, it is not," Professor Vector all but glowered. "Out of my class, Mister Potter. There's someone at the door for you."

Stumbling up and gathering his things, Harry was hastily trying to mask that he was eager to be out of the class earlier than usual. It was a pity that he didn't hear Professor Vector say, "He isn't quite aware of who he's going to talk to, is he?" And if he had, he would've turned tail and run to the hills, preferably screaming like a girl.

Just as Harry closed the door behind him, he caught silver eyes, specked with blue, gazing at him in delight. Those orbs seemed as if they were evaluating him. Or trying to swallow him whole.

"Potter," Draco smirked, wand in his hands.

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**A/N: **Hah! The end of chapter 3! Now one may begin to wonder why Draco had gone to Harry's classroom, huh? ;D haha, well please. review. If I make a limerick, would you guys review?

_Roses are red_

_Violets are blue_

_Why dont you guys ever review_

_Huu, huu, huu?_

Come now, cookies. Spare a review for a starving author. They're like inspiration to me. ^_^ Very good for the soul.


	4. Where are my flowers?

**A/N: **Sorry for taking a while xD I was really busy with worrying over my grades for this sem...sorry to keep you guys waiting! And THAAAANK you for your reviews! They make me really happy. ^_^

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**Chapter 3:: Where are my flowers?**

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Yes, you may be wondering how Draco Malfoy knew of Harry's less-than-average Arithmancy skills. And his timetable. But you must also remember that he is Draco Malfoy. Isn't the last name more than a dead give away?

...Right.

In all actuality, Draco had nicked Harry's timetable from Dumbledore's office, whilst the old coot was cooing at Fawkes to eat a lemon drop from his hand. Now that had been somewhat freaky. One of the greatest wizards of modern wizarding times had had his palm outstretched, with a small, yellow ball of sugar in the middle of it, while trying to offer said sweet to his familiar.

Mind you, most phoenixes didn't eat lemon drops and for the sake of all things wizardly, never thought of eating one. So what Draco saw was a total shock, when instead of eating the lemon drop, Fawkes had trilled and bit Dumbledore square on the nose.

"Lemon balls!" Dumbledore had swore, and Draco took that as a substitute for Merlin's balls, which was just as naughty.

He rushed away as soon as his wits caught up to him and hadn't bothered to listen to the rest of the Headmaster's cursing.

"Malfoy?" Harry looked confused. "What are you doing here?"

_To lick you from the bottom up and possibly __**maybe **__rape you, _Draco's mind spoke, but aloud he said, "To give you this." He pocketed his wand, then shyly gave the boquet of gardenias and white heathers to the crush of his lifetime.

Okay, so it was a bit cheesy, but what was he supposed to do? After he had propositioned Justin Finch-Fletchley, the dumb Huffledork had basically shook his hand over and over again, then proceeded to chatter his ear off about how he was going to woo the Weaselette. In the end, the idio--_Justin, _had handed Draco the flowers, and told him to give it to Ginny. Though wasn't it Justin's job to give it?

Admittedly, Draco, for all of his Purebloodedness, would never _ever_ be so low as to hand the disgusting Weaselette _flowers_. Never in a million years. So he decided to do a smarter thing and give them to Harry.

Errr.

Was there a flaw in his thinking?

Harry seemed shock, as he held the boquet in his arms. His iridescent eyes darted from him, to the flowers, then back again. Finally, he spoke in a dazed manner,

"Err. Malfoy, what's this for?"

Ahem.

_What does it look like-?_

Draco instead, cleared his throat. Damn his sinuses for acting up.

"It's nothing. Just read the card and you'll understand." Was it him or did his voice sound a little high?

"Oh. Okay. Uhm...Thank you?" This seemed to perplex Harry, and Draco just stood there, palms sweating and everything too bright and--_what the hell?_

"You're welcome, Potter."

With that, Draco turned on his heel and fled, all the while thinking, _shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit! _

He had actually been polite to Harry.

* * *

Stunned, Harry just gazed at the back of Draco's fleeing form before looking at the boquet of flowers in his arms. It was an enormous case of flowers, just big enough for someone to not get toppled over with while carrying for it, and not the usual kind Harry had seen. Hell, even the flowers were bigger than normal. What were the wizarding gardeners feeding the flowers? Flower chow?

He tentatively opened the card, his eyebrows rising in disbelief as he perused the contents:

_Hello,_

_There are so many words to say, and I can't tell them enough for them to mean the same for you. So just take these flowers as a token of affection, for they mean everything to me._

_Yours truly,_

**S E C R E T A D M I R E R**

Harry had the strangest feeling that these weren't for him, but who else could they be?

Scratching his head, he carefully held the boquet in his arms and trudged to the Gryffindor Tower, thankful that not many people were out and about, seeing as though it was class time.

What confused Harry was why Malfoy?

Why did Malfoy even bother?

Was it him? Did he do this? And why would he--

Harry promptly fell flat on his face.

"Oww!" he moaned and held his smarting nose, annoyed at the fact that he was so distracted that he tripped and fell flat on his face. Talk about an ungraceful mess.

But first thing was first! He thought bravely, and staggered the rest of the way to the Common Room. He said the password ('_Coraggio_') to the Fat Lady and managed to actually make it to his room in relative ease. If it weren't for his stubbed toe and aching nose, that was.

He'd have to figure out the meaning of these flowers. Even if he had to ask every girl in Gryffindor.

* * *

Harry resisted the urge to do an epic facepalm.

"These small white ones--they could be lillies?" said Ginny, running her hands over Harry's own. Harry tried not to slap them away.

"I don't know, but it seems unlikely," he bit out, slightly frustrated. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out, was his current mantra. He didn't know what to do when this kinda situation was presented to him. Girls plus him didn't mix. And at this current proximity? Not good.

"No, no!" Hermione protested, picking the beautiful flower up and examining them, unknowingly pressing her _reallyisthatdevelopingchest? _to his front. Harry flushed to the roots of his hair, but tried not to think about anything. "I think they're Blackberries?"

That's right Harry. Breathe _in _and HOLYSHITTHEYWERENTDEVELOPINGAFTERALL_ out._

"Noooo! That's food, Hermione!" said another girl, Lavender, all pretty in her makeup and hair. She gave a particular nice smile to Harry and he really wanted to gag. Now. She then said, "I think these are Heathers, because they look like the ones my ex-boyfriend sent me."

Harry, out of sheer desperation, had a feeling that Lavender was right (what, with her flowery name and all) and just agreed with her. Now all that was left were the really pretty, really blooming white ones.

Suddenly every girl that crowded around the boquet in his arms, stayed eerily silent for a few moments. Then Hermione spoke up, saying, "I believe these are Gardenias. I've seen a picture of them in a book."

And that was all he really wanted and _needed_ to know.

With that, Harry thanked them for their help and scampered away, grateful that it only took him a few minutes to talk to those suffocating females.

_But now_...

Harry smirked.

Now that he had identified them, all he needed to do was to find their meaning...

* * *

"They're sorta off-white now."

"The stasis spell is wearing off then," Sprout said, checking an essay.

"They're...for girls."

"I'm quite aware of that, yes," she answered, eyebrows furrowing at the essay in front of her. Why would anyone want to put a Mandrake under a bed? [1]

She gave this Ann-Love half marks and went to another one.

Regardless, Harry talked on:

"And...you know, Professor, like you told me before, do these Heathers actually mean '_Wishes Will Come True_?'" he asked his busy Professor, who was distractedly drawing red all over each essay repeatedly. She clucked her tongue a little in acquiescence, then nodded.

Harry, a little dubious of the meaning, stared at the overgrown flowers, his lips pursed.

"Why would anyone want to say that?"

"I don't know, all right?!" Sprout threw her hands up in frustration. More at Harry than at her failing students. It was a pity most of them were garden-retarded. "Mister Potter," she reared up to her full height, then regarded him balefully. "If you would be so kind as to _leave_ so I can get some work done, it would mean the _world_ to me. Really."

Harry took that as his cue to go. But before he closed the door, he cheekily asked,

"Are you really sure Gardenias mean 'your lovely, secret love'? I don't see why he would keep himself a secret if he was really so lovely. Isn't that right, Professor?"

Annoyed, Sprout threw a heavy packet of seeds at Harry's retreating head. Cleaning be damned.

* * *

Dinner found Harry scribbling down everything he knew. From the meaning to the flowers, the colour, the way Draco's face lit up when he actually accepted the boquet, to the little wrinkle forming on Draco's pale forehead as Harry answered him--

Wait. Wait. Harry was so not thinking of Draco.

He stared down at his list, surprised that half of it consisted of Draco Malfoy's name, with hearts substituting as the o's.

Merlin, what was wrong with him?

Scowling, Harry was determined to figure out if Draco was just screwing around with his brain. Or his penis. Who really knew?

He sideglanced at the Slytherin table then at Ginny.

And maybe along the way, he could find out some things too.

* * *

[1] : from the movie, Pan's Labyrinth. A must see movie if you hadn't watched it yet. :3

**A/N: **I'm not too comfortable writing out sex scenes just yet, but I'm getting around to it. Expect a scene or two sometime in the future. ;D

NAO REVIEEWWWZZZ!


	5. Alcoholism isn't the key, it's an answer

**DISCLAIMER: **Don't own HP. and co. forgot the last chapter's disclaimer so...yeah. sorry. i really don't own HP. ;-;

* * *

**Chapter 4: Alcoholism isn't the key, it's an answer**

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**

"And she was like, '_Oh Merlin, I can't believe you, Pansy_!' and was about to slap me until I beat her to the punch and bitch slapped that cunt to kingdom come." Draco had to laugh at Pansy's imitation of Daphne Greengrass, and knew he was soooo closed to getting smashed. Sooo close. He knew he was smashed if he had to hold the ground to keep from falling off the face of the planet. And he wasn't.

Yet.

He sneakily drank Pansy's shot, and let out a giggle when the girl tried to drink out of the empty glass. Thinking she might of drunk it already (she actually had nine shots down already), she thoughtlessly passed it back to Draco. He smirked and handed the glass for a refill.

Regardless, Pansy blathered on,

"She even looked at me after that, then ran all the way to some Huffledump, tears streaming down her face all the while!"

With that said, the boisterous girl took another shot from the (this time, filled) glass, smoothing down her blonde hair whilst doing so. She giggled a bit, then batted her lashes at Blaise, who rolled his eyes.

"What?" Blaise asked dryly, taking a sip out of his own glass (he really didn't like to share, though did not openly talk about why. Was something about getting cooties or whatever muggle reference he was referring to).

"You want a reward for that or something?"

"Please?"

Pansy's brown eyes watered.

Everyone in the Common Room could only shake their heads and sigh.

"You know what she wants," Millicent said, passing her drink over to Draco. He greedily gulped it down and burped, ignoring the dark looks he received from his fellow Slytherins. What? They weren't allowed to forgo dignity and pride when they were sloshed? He stole Crabbe's shot and gleefully burped again, just to irritate his housemates.

They decided to ignore him for the most part now, and he pouted. He'd inflict pain and misery on them later, when the world stopped spinning.

Another Slytherin, Adrian Pucey (Draco thought this dude sucked, by the way) spoke up, "Yeah, you know what would happen if you don't give _it _to her."

The others murmured in agreement about _it_.

Draco would've gladly liked to mention that _it_ shouldn't have been a substitute for--well, _it._

There was a glare on Blaise's face.

"No. I won't do it. No," he said stubbornly. "You'd have to pay me four galleons to do that."

"How about 15?" Draco inputted, slyly eyeing his best friend. He was joking really. But it was _so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, very priceless_ if Blaise actually did..._it_.

They all collectively held their breaths as Blaise appeared thoughtful for a moment, then shrugged (this made the others breathe in relief).

"Fine, I'll do it. But pass the dough over first." The Italian extended his hand, raising an impatient eyebrow at him. "Hey, it's your fault Draco. You could've doubled it but tripled it instead. Not my fault really."

"Yeah, yeah," Draco grumbled. He dug out of his pocket for the allotted change, then reluctantly depositied it into Blaise's outstretched hand. "Happy? Are you going to do _it_ or not?"

With an overexaggerated sigh, Blaise stood up, walked into the middle of the Common Room, then held his wand up. _Sonorus_ went up to cover the entire room and fireplace and silencing charms were placed around the entrance. He seemed a bit nervous, but was once again cheered on by Draco's crooked grin and Pansy's enthusiastic one.

"Ahem."

Blaise was just stalling really.

"I will now call Snape via floo."

It all sounded rather lame, but in all actuality, this was the best form of entertainment that could be found in the Slytherin dorms. Which was sad to say, somewhat pathetic, but hey, they were Slytherins and Slytherins never complained about what kinds of entertainment they sought.

Like annoying the hell out of their Head of House with unnecessary floo-calls since his bedroom was a stroll next door.

Not inebriated enough to forget the floo powder this time (because last time Blaise did and had been forced to charm his hair back), he cautiously threw in the glittery substance, called out Snape's sitting room, then stuck his head inside the fireplace.

Everyone crowded around him to hear Snape's words and peer through the floo.

"Hi, Professurrrr," Blaise chirped, doing his best not to sound totally smashed. He was doing a damn good job about it since all Snape did was raise an uninterested eyebrow in his direction.

Snape was in his pyjamas, which was a pair of soft black boxers and an equally black nightcap with a fuzzy ball at the end. No one bothered to question this, as they all wanted to remain thankfully intact. They all liked their bones and skin and everything about themselves really. They didn't fancy a complicated hex from their volatile Head.

"And why, pray tell, do I have the honour to be graced with your presences?" Snape said without any malice, though a visible twitch was seen in his jaw.

"Nothing, really, sir." Blaise tried to hide a hiccup but failed miserably and plouged on with his query anyway, "I just wanted to know if you'd like to have breakfuuuust with us later?"

A fleeting look of confusion crossed Snape's face.

"Breakfust?" he repeated.

"Yes, breakfust," said Blaise solemnly, and every one who was peering into the floo witnessed Snape breaking the quill in his hands.

Draco couldn't help the burst of laughter bubbling out of him and his housemates followed closely after. His friend had a tendency to skew words up when he was smashed. That or substitute his food with vulgar references and bananas.

Everyone knew what bananas were to Blaise.

Anyway.

Snape growled. "No, I do not want to have _breakfust_ with you or anyone tomorrow. And what in Merlin's balls were you thinking of flooing me and not knocking on my door instead?"

"Because I misshhhed you?" Blaise answered innocently, already beginning to slur.

"Are you under any alcoholic influences at the moment, Mister Zabini?" Snape drawled and eyed him suspiciously. He bent forward, then took a direct whiff of Blaise, eyebrows angling down as a sneer wedged onto his face.

"Cinnamon and Firewhiskey? I should've known. What have I told you Slytherins about bringing alcoholic beverages into the Slytherin Dormitory and sneaking about and--blahblahblahblahblahblah--what if the other Houses find out about your--blahblahblahblahblah--Dumbledore would have my hide if any of you were to--blahblahblahblah--kinky sex photos like last year--blahblahblahblah--"

They all tuned Snape out, watching him get progressively purpler and purpler with each passing second. The vein on his forehead was obviously throbbing and his lip was curled in a snarl at Blaise's uncharacteristically happy face.

This was Blaise's cue to actually scatter, before Snape would curse his Italian ass off.

"Okiiieee Proffesshurr, shorry for dishturbing you," Blaise slurred on and ended the floo call. He collapsed in front of the fireplace, already snoring.

"You suck," Pansy said and kicked at Blaise's sleeping form.

Everyone couldn't help but agree.

Though that had been (to them) pretty funny. Because why would they floo when their professor's rooms were right down the hallway? Rather ingenious way of annoying Snape. After all, he wouldn't purposely maim one of his own, right?

Imagining their Head of House poisoning their drink or food, they all shared a look and gulped.

Right...

* * *

"And then, and then--" hiccuped Theodore, wobbling over to sit next to the half-lidded Draco. "Then he gave me the beshtesht head evuuuur!"

Everyone tried to nod understandingly.

* * *

"Thuuuuur!" Pansy eyed her work critically. "Could you turn your face left and right, Draco?" The now, prettified Draco tilted his head towards his friends. They hooted and catcalled because now, Draco looked like a bonafied hooker. His eyebrows had been darkened, his silver eyes were rimmed with dark kohl and shadowed with black and plum. His lips were painted a beautiful red and Blaise let out an appreciative whistle.

"He looks better than you do, Pansy!" Theodore howled with laughter though quickly quieted when one empty bottle of firewhiskey was thrown at his head.

* * *

Draco was half-naked and had transfigured a quill to be his cowboy hat and a parchment to be his rope. He still had his makeup on.

"Anyone want to try letting me ride them?"

Blaise was the only one to raise his hand.

* * *

This had to be hell, the Slytherins were simultaneously thinking. They were seeing the world shift and fall beneath their forms, the environment warp before their very eyes and their very existences being questioned. This was hell in a hand-basket. Really.

Or it was just a really, really, soon-to-be bad hangover.

Draco took the last shot and finally, the blessed, _blessed_ party was over.

Stumbling to their respective dorms, each Slytherin fell fast asleep on their covers, snoring and smelling of the alcohol they had imbibed.

* * *

Draco bucked into those welcoming hands, head thrown back and groaning. What the hell was happening to him? First he was in bed dozing off and now there was something making him feel so damned pleasurable that his head was spinning.

_Wet dream, wet dream, wet dream_, he chanted inwardly, wishing it were Harry doing these things to him.

Leaving his last train of coherent thought, Draco let his head fall onto the mattress. His eyes closed of their on accord when a moist mouth came in contact with his neck. The stranger trailed open mouthed kisses all the way down to his collarbone, gently biting down and eliciting a strangled gasp from Draco. His toes had actually curled at the sensation!

"Uhh--yeah," he moaned and arched into the talented mouth now grazing his nipple. Was it him or was he extra sensitive today? Must've been the firewhiskey Nott had brought in. Though he had had only a few shots before seeing the world move in random directions. That was when Draco had to call it quits. Yeah. All of this must've been a figment of his imagination. It had to be.

Draco, deciding to be generous (this was a dream after all), slid his hands all the way to cup his mysterious lover's buttocks, kneading them through thin trousers. His long fingers practically paid homage to the delightfully tight arse and the stranger gasped deliciously at the teasing assault.

"Mhm, Draco," a familiar voice breathily mewled into his ear. "That feels _so good_..." A dexterous tongue reached out to play with the shell and Draco's closed eyes shot open. Why did that voice sound _so bloody familiar_?! He decided to ignore the warning signals in his head and let himself fall into those oh-so-sinful touches.

Those hands--oh Merlin those hands could do anything to him, Draco thought, as they none-too-gently grazed his chest and down to his belly button.

Suddenly those soft, warm hands caressed the top of the growing bulge in his pants, and a head bent down to lick the trail from his belly button all the way down to his trousers. The person's hair was so soft and smooth and--Draco couldn't help but breathe in the nice scent--

Which smelt like cinnamon.

Draco immediately stiffened.

He _recognised_ the appetising scent!

"_BLAISE!_ YOU SON OF A BITCH! What the fuck!" he squawked and pushed his intoxicated friend off him.

Disgruntled, Blaise stumbled away from Draco, hazel eyes holding a bewildered look. "Draco? Is that you?" the Italian squinted a bit, then made an 'o' face and hiccuped. "I am so sorry, Dray. I hadn't realised--I hope you don't think of me any lower than I already am but--I really am--"

"It's okay," Draco interrupted, feeling a tiny bit traumatised. "Just...don't do it again, okay?"

Looking entirely sober now, Blaise nodded and walked to his bed and plopped down on it. "Bet you were wishing I was Potter, huh?" Blaise asked a moment later, and Draco was surprised to hear a bitter tone to his friend's lilted voice.

Draco scanned Blaise's expression and shrugged once, which Blaise replied with an even stare.

Only a mite perturbed at Blaise's touchy-feelyness, the blond shrugged once more. "I guess you can say that, yeah," he answered. "But it was all right since it was you." Meaning he could forgive Blaise and pretend that it did not happen. At all.

Blaise's features contorted. "Since it was me?" he gave a hollow laugh. His handsome features shifted into a hawkish grin (it seemed that he had some inner joke), and without another word, turned over so that he was facing the other wall. He gave a one arm salute.

"Good night, Draco. And thanks for the ego blow."

"Ego blow?" Draco asked out loud, eyebrow arched, pointedly directing his query to his friend, whose only answer was to let out a loud and obviously fake snore.

Draco, a little confused, thought it best not to wonder after that.

* * *

"Ugh, Drakie-poo, Blaise! _My head_!" Pansy moaned in pain, clutching her head at the Slytherin table. She sat between Blaise and him, not really caring about the tense atmosphere around them. She knew they'd get over it eventually, and didn't care one bit if they were uncomfortable around each other so long as they weren't uncomfortable around her. Which they weren't.

So Pansy went on with just being her wonderful self.

Aforementioned wonderful person was pounding her small head onto the table, unknowingly shoving a plateful of eggs at a fifth year Slytherin in her haste to meet gravity. The tall girl had barely managed to evade the silverware and shoot Pansy a venomous stare.

The sixth year witch graced her housemate with a green-sneer (she was still hung over after all) and flipped her off.

"Uggggh. I want to die," she whined to them both.

"Told you not to get so pissed," Draco simply replied, taking a dainty bite out of his toast. He caught Blaise's eyes, then quirked an inquisitive brow. "How come you're not as badly off as she is?" He gestured to the miserable girl besides them, clutching the table as if she'd fall right off the face of the earth.

Blaise let out a secretive smile.

"Hangover potions," he said, then snickered at Pansy's pleading look.

"I thought that Snape refused to make anymore, after the last party. Can I have one?" she asked, her brown eyes wide and teary.

Blaise took a bite out of his toast, then in a flat tone stated,

"No."

Pansy wailed and for the rest of breakfast, refused to look at Blaise without spitting at his shoe. The hawkish boy just rolled his eyes and tarried on with his food, though occasionally made time to cast a cleaning charm over said footwear.

Draco just thought it was really funny.

And the peace between them was restored.

* * *

"Harry?" Hermione asked, trudging besides him as they made their way down to the Great Hall. She inadvertently shoved a first year Hufflepuff out of her way (no one gets in the way of coffee and breakfast). The poor boy squeaked in terror at the resident 'Whackbush' and fell to the floor, amidst his terrified and equally cowed peers. Hermione scoffed but continued on her way with her friend. Ron was already at the table so they needn't wait for him to go down.

Harry, a little distracted about the day before, was still trying to come up with reasons or facts as to why Draco would give him flowers in the first place. Were there any future possibilities that this would happen again? And when? Would the flowers be even more expensive then--

...Wait.

Why was he even thinking about that?

Harry scowled but answered Hermione's gentle prodding. Yes he was okay, no he was sure that nothing was bothering him, and no, the flowers _were _for him, no matter what Lavender told the other girls. Though that was a worrisome thing because he saw Justin Finch-Fletchley stare longingly at Ginny all day.

He slid into his seat next to Ron, glowered at his friend's impeccable manners (Harry was somewhat peachy today that's for sure) and mechanically took a spoonful of eggs. He sipped his juice, chewed a little more eggs, then excused himself from the table and made his way out of the Great Hall.

All in record timing too.

He was about to rush past the next corner when he bumped into a small body. The person bounced off him with a loud, 'yeouch!' and landed on his bum, staring venomously at Harry with narrowed, silver eyes.

Gaping, Harry gazed down at his arch-nemesis turned maybe admirer, doing an impressive imitation of a goldfish.

"Bugger," was all Malfoy said before Harry dragged him off to an empty classroom.

* * *

**A/N: **Haha. What'll Harry think up next? XD Thank you all for your wonderfunderful reviews! I'm posting this directly and I haven't found the time to check it over...hoped you liked it :o


	6. I'm In the Closet With You!

**DISCLAIMER: **Nah. I wish I owned HP and co., so i could have Harry and Draco do the bunny thing all the time. ;]

**A/N: THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR LOVELY REVIEWS! It inspired me to actually update faster XD**

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**Chapter Five: I'm in the closet with you!**

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Draco found himself on top of a desk. With Potter on top of him. Said boy was already in the makings of casting silencing and locking charms on the door, which left Draco to try and get over his. Uhh. Problem.

Wait, wait. What was his problem again?

He rewinded the last few seconds in his head and he knew his face sported a comical look of shock.

Potter.

On top of him.

In an empty and magically locked classroom.

_Merlin!_ he thought, still flabbergasted at the turn of events. He had just finished breakfast with Pansy and Blaise and thought it'd do him good to walk by himself for once, seeing as though they had no classes til the afternoon. But as he was turning the corner, he _had_ to run into his walking wetdream and be locked in an _empty _room with him.

Great. Just great.

_Yep, this is one of your fantasies all right,_ spoke a voice in his head, and Draco snapped his head up.

Who was that?

_I'm you, duh_, Draco could've sworn the voice was rolling its eyes. _Have you ever told yourself how stupid you are?_

No, and he wasn't about to start.

But what the hell? Why would he need to be talking to himself when he had Potter reinforcing his spells with extra magical strength? When Potter had his brawny and sinuous body on top of his? When Potter was making unnecessary movements with his hands and, and--dare he say it--being all--

_Sexy-like_.

_Wait no! Not sexy! _he cried out in his mind and refused to listen to his inner self agreeing with him.

_Not to mention drool inducing, _his Inner self quipped.

"Draco," Boy Wonder finally spoke, gazing at him with those verdant green eyes that sent tingles down his spine. They bore into his own gaze and Draco gulped, wondering why that one word seemed to ask a multitude of questions, which he had no answers to.

If only Harry would get off now...

_Yes, get off please_, snickered his Inner self and Draco managed to keep a passive expression on his face while inside, he was panicking and wailing. His Inner self wasn't helping with its unnecessary pervertedness.

So he remained silent to Harry's query. Maybe if he was quiet, Harry would leave him alone?

"Well?"

Damn.

His silence only made said boy impatient.

The idiotic Gryffindor still refused to get off him (wasn't it common sense to _not pin_ your archnemesis down on a desk?) and as Harry shifted against him, Draco bit back a groan, feeling smooth fabric brush against his groin.

Nooo! He panicked even more. Harry was against his danger zone! He didn't want him anywhere near that!

He struggled feebly for a moment, then succeeded prying Harry off.

Panting and flushed, he did Malfoy scowl number three (the one for 'I succeeded in getting out of danger and will not be easily fooled again' scowl) and glowered.

"What do you want, Potty?" he snarked, doing a fairly good impression of a cornered sheep.

Harry's eyebrow elevated. "Potty?" he repeated amusedly. "Resorting to first-year insults, Malfoy? Tsk, tsk."

Now Draco was definitely sure he was doing a good impression of a goldfish. When had Potter grown a back bone?

"When you gave me flowers," answered Harry. Had he said that out loud?

"Yes, you did, Malfoy." Harry was looking even more amused by the bright glint in his eyes.

Draco was sorely tempted to bash his head against the nearest wall. Since when had he taken to broadcasting his thoughts out loud? May as well use a sonorus charm and get it over with.

He took a deep breath, then composed himself.

"Potter," he sneered. "I did not give you flowers."

"Oh really then?" Harry asked, smirking. "Then what about the other day, with the boquet and everything?"

"It wasn't from me," he denied, crossing his arms defensively. "It was from another person."

"Sure it was," Harry responded indulgently. Draco wanted to slap the smug look off his face.

"Yeah, it was," Draco spat out.

"Really now?" Boy Wonder seemed totally amused.

"_Really_," he reaffirmed, narrowing his eyes and grinding his teeth to suppress his temper. And boy, what a temper he had! Even if Draco had a _massive_ nose-bleeding crush on The-Boy-Who-Bloody-Had-To-Live, that didn't mean he'd make it any easier for Harry!

He was going to strangle Harry...

"Of course it was you, you just admitted it!" Harry proclaimed with a bright grin. "Besides, you gave the boquet to me with your own two hands."

Oh yes, with his _two_ hands...

Draco bared his teeth out at the Boy-Who-Refused-To-Get-A-Life.

"Don't you have a Weaselette to stalk and make babies with?" he sneered once more, getting to the point of it all. He may as well figure it out if the dumb orange-head was competition or not. If not, good for him, bad for the world. Who wanted a gay hero, after all?

_Not wizarding society that's for certain_, said his Inner Self. He had to agree with that.

For a long time, Harry looked at him bemusedly. Then said, "What about me and Ginny?" Scarhead had totally skipped the part about the making babies thingy. Not that Draco wanted him to have...Weasel Babies. That was just eww.

"Don't you--you know, have anything going on between her? With her?? To her??" he asked, somewhat lamely.

"Nah...I don't think so," Harry replied slowly. "I think of her as a little sister and nothing more. Why would you say that?"

"Oh nothing," Draco said innocently.

_Not really, nothing, you mean, _spoke his Inner self once more. _It's not nothing because you want to know why she throws him those _looks_ of utter sluttishness_. _The dumb slut._

Yeah, she was a slut. But really, who could blame Draco for wanting to know who got in Potty's pants?

"Can't be nothing," Harry said, watching Draco suspiciously.

Draco ignored him. "Well, then Scarhead, if we're done here, I'd like to be free of your ugly presence and go now, I have classes to attend," he said carelessly and walked to the locked door. He tried to open it. To no avail. He tried every spell he knew to open doors, and it wouldn't budge. Hell, he even tried to kick it open but this effort only managed to give him one painfully stubbed toe and a massively bruised ego.

Harry chuckled, "Well, you can't go without my permission, Draco."

"I don't need your ruddy permission to get the hell out of here!" growled Draco and continued to try to open the door. Yep, it was permanently if not completely glued to its hinges. Damnit.

"Oh, give me that," Harry finally said, after watching Draco go at it for fifteen minutes. Boy Wonder nudged him out of the way and chanted a password that suspiciously sounded like Parseltongue.

He tried the door.

It wouldn't open.

"Uh-oh," said Harry.

"Uh-oh, what?" Draco grit out.

"Wait, wait." Harry attempted another password, this time it was a long (and damnably sexy) string of parseltongue. He twisted the knob and again.

It wouldn't budge.

"_Potter_," Draco said murderously. "I swear to Merlin if you can't open that door, I'll hex you ten ways to Sunday."

"Errr...Well you see.."

Draco, nearly bursting a blood vessel at Harry's sheepish look, said, "Well? What are you waiting for? Aren't you going to open this stupid door?"

"Err, that's the thing," squeaked Harry, fidgeting. "None of the passwords work."

Draco really, really, _really_ wanted to hurt something. Badly. And one hint: it wasn't going to be him.

* * *

Hogwarts, alive and sentient, sniggered to himself and watched the entertainment unfold. These kids nowadays had nothing on him and his magic. It would be so fun to watch the two archenemies become something more. Or less. Depending on if you counted bodyparts, that is.

Shrugging its hypothetical shoulders, Hogwarts observed his latest love team.

* * *

To pass the time, Harry and Draco seemed quite at peace. They even seemingly forgot about the original reason why they ended up there in the first place.

For the first time in their entire lives, could they truly be themselves. No barriers, no expectations--no _nothing_. And that was the best thing about this particular predicament: just being themselves.

No, not really.

Actually, what was said before was just the sugar coated version of what _really _occurred.

This is how the bad became total shitstorm:

The first few minutes of their supposed imprisonment made them piss, moan, and whinge. Even argue and throw hexes and curses (which they both dodged easily). Eventually though, the two quieted, sobered up, and called a truce. Of course, that was after they threw punches and scratched and tore their robes apart. Even going so far as to rip the tops of their shirts off.

Truthfully, they did more damage to their clothes than to themselves, which was a good thing. If you weren't a Malfoy, maybe.

Draco's usually pristine blond hair was messy and stuck up in odd angles, and his pretty lip was split. His very expensive and tailored robes were all torn in places that shouldn't have ever be torn in the first place (namely where his chest and stomach were), so he looked semi-awkward but paid no attention to it.

Harry was a little worse off. Since Draco fought like a sissy--err, _girl_, he bit, scratched and clawed at whatever piece of Harry was near. Boy Wonder's glasses were permanently broken and no amount of reparo's would fix it (thank Merlin for that). His lip was also busted and the beginnings of a bruise were showing near Harry's cheek (Draco had slammed his elbow, trying to aim for Harry's eye to no success). His robes fared no better than Draco's.

They were in an unspoken contest to see who would beat who at wit.

"Harry," Draco glowered.

"Draco," Harry egged on.

"Your mom is so fat she couldn't fit into her robes and had to call the aurors to help her," Draco growled, arms crossing in challenge.

"Yeah, well, your mom is so fat she stands in two different time zones," Harry spat back, glaring.

Draco rounded on Harry, his silver eyes specked with blue practically sizzling the Boy-Who-Should-Have-Stayed-Six-Feet-Under in place.

"Oh yeah? Going to take the challenge?" Draco scoffed, "Well, think again, Potty. I got you this time--your mom is so ugly, just after she was born, her mother said 'What a treasure!' and her father said 'Yes, let's go bury it.'"

At this, Harry couldn't help but keep laughing at how ridiculous that sounded. What made him laugh even harder was that he couldn't believe they were doing yo mama jokes! In an attempt to smother his laughter, he once again stepped on his (sigh) glasses and put his back to the wall.

In-between the fading sniggers and laughs, the nearly-blind Harry managed to say, "And, and--_hahah_--your mama--_hahahaha_--is so _ugly_ her parents know what time she was born--_HAH--_cos she made time stop!"

"Hey!" Draco pouted. "That's not fair! You can't say the truth!"

This made Harry cease laughing and caused him stare at Draco, bewildered, "What?"

"Made you stop laughing, didn't it?" smirked Draco.

Harry pouted.

2-0.

So far, Draco was in the lead with his spectacular skills in wit and bitch fighting.

Harry was so way out of his league.

* * *

Hermione shoved Pansy to a wall, then prowled up and into Blaise's breathing space.

"Where. Is. Harry?" she spoke out, death ringing in every word. If it weren't for the fact that Hermione Granger was a muggleborn and an all-around good girl, Blaise could've sworn she was a Dark-Lord-to-be. Or something as evil as that...

Ron stood awkwardly at the sides, trying to hide behind a suit of armour. Too bad for him, his tall and gangly body was too--err _tall_ to hide. So it just looked really weird.

"I haven't the faintest clue where Scarhead is," said Blaise evenly, helping Pansy up. The girl grumbled and shot Hermione a scathing glare.

"If you hadn't noticed, _mudblood_, Draco isn't here either," spat Pansy. "So either they're both beating each other up--or doing whatever the hell they want. Unlike certain mudbloods who never know how to let go," sniffed the Pureblooded witch imperiously.

Ron quickly jumped to his girlfriend's defense, but that was after he fell over (causing the suit of armour to fall too), picked himself up, and staggered to where they were standing.

"Hey! Don't call her that!" he said bravely, and stood in front of the two girls, who were shooting invisible daggers at each other with their eyeballs.

Blaise sighed and facepalmed.

It was going to be a long, _long_ day.

* * *

"You know," said Albus conversationally, sipping on his tea. "I think we're overlooking something."

It was midday at Hogwarts, and he was vaguely aware that Hogwarts seemed to be laughing at something. But what was it, exactly?

Severus Snape, who had loathed since been invited to Albus's afternoon tea time, had eyed the Headmaster's clothes in digust. His robes were a bright and flamboyant pink with dark red hearts. His choice of footwear--now don't let Severus get started on those! To his horror, they were green and pointed with a fuzzy ball on top. Just like in the Victorian era, but without the frills and (he shuddered) a two-inch heel. The thing that really scared him was the fact that Albus had a _pink pointy hat_. Who in the bloody blazes wore a pink _wizard _hat?!

Severus glared. Apparently Dumbledore.

Suddenly, the afternoon sun appeared, and the dark haired man barely stopped from cringing at how the light reflected and encompassed Albus in an almighty pink glow.

Pink sparkles of doom indeed.

Severus struggled to answer, "Ughh--I mean, err now that I think about it, I hadn't seen Draco at all today, except during breakfast. I wonder where that dratted boy could've gone..."

Albus shrugged noncommittally and sipped his tea.

"Maybe to play?"

Oh how right the old coot was.

* * *

It took time, and a lot of patience--and not to mention extra bruises--until the door finally clicked open (courtesy of Hogwarts, who was now bored). The two boys knew not to look a gifthorse in its mouth and quickly scrambled out of there, amidst cries of utter glee and happiness.

"I can't believe we're out of there," panted Draco, relief evident on his aristocratic face.

"Yeah, me neither," replied Harry, wiping a bead of sweat away.

"...Wonder how we got out?"

"I really have no clue..."

Looking decidedly uncomfortable, Draco tried to sound less whiny and more manly, "It's not as if I'm complaining, I'm just--you know--_wondering_."

"Yeah, yeah...I knew that," said Harry, walking down an empty corridor with him. It was already well-passed curfew and Mrs Norris was probably prowling somewhere around the castle, with Filch not far behind.

Not that it stopped either one of them from waltzing their way to their respective dormitories.

Before they separated, they stared at each other awkwardly .

Draco shuffled his feet.

"Uhh. Goodnight?" he mumbled.

"Err, yeah. Goodnight," Harry lamely responded.

"So," Draco said.

"Soooo," echoed Harry, wondering what the hell this was about.

"Soo. Uhh. Yeah. I liked how today turned out. And uhm. See you."

Harry, a bit perplexed at how Draco flushed a becoming pink (when did he ever find his archnemesis attractive??), nodded dumbly.

"Yeah.. Uhh. Today was cool. Err. See you."

They both darted to their dormitories, finding that they had no more words to say, though Harry tripped on the first step up. He still had no glasses on.

* * *

**A/N: Random? I think not. I had an outline and everything:**

**Draco gives Harry flowers**

**Draco and Harry spend time together/be awkward (we're here!)**

**They get even more awkward with each other and get both get tongue-tied**

**Make Blaise, Hermione, Pansy and Ron plot a date**

**Seamus or someone else with interest in the two boys interferes**

**Ginny won't shut the hell up (interlude)**

**and blahblahblah... xD**

**Hope you liked this chapter, I think it was my best so far O.O AND REVIEWWWWW! Please! XD  
**


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